On Sunday my girlfriend and I were in the center of SP in those bars that usually play a samba root, to eat a good food: meat, breaded banana with a pair of zóião (eggs) on the top. We arrived at a nice bar near the Ipiranga Avenue, in the middle of a square. Nice place, but with few people and no tables scattered by the usual animation Saturdays, where the brazillians waddles, walking, and waiters roam with trays of chopps, beers and feijoadas.

We approached and found a table in front of the trees, ready to kill the hunger. Here comes the menu, covered of hard words and high prices. Penne, Shitake, Fettuccine and one or more other fancy combination. The expectation for the course in good Brazilian style went downhill.

We walked a bit more towards the Republic Square and decided to eat there, among Bolivians, Chileans, Brazilians and Americans, a jumble of Yakissoba, and we paid at least three times less than we would in that restaurant that give “10 % discount for those who arrives there by bike”.

Belly full and satisfied after eating a tempura, there was nothing more to be completed, unless the “gourmetization of the Centrão”.